


Bullet Wounds and Kisses

by adapttothis



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arguing, Blood, Bullets, Fighting, Kissing, Other, Unconsciousness, Yelling, bullet wounds, buns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4289685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adapttothis/pseuds/adapttothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Steve Rogers hate each other; you continuously fight and can never agree. However, when a mission goes sour, true feelings come to light, and you find out that sometimes, bullet wounds can be helpful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullet Wounds and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I don’t read much Steve fanfiction, so I hope that I’ve written him well. I am actually really happy with how this turned out, I think its really cute. Also, I don’t know how to treat a bullet wounds, so just go with me here, ok? ok. Enjoy! You can also read this on my Tumblr: http://adaptttothis.tumblr.com/post/123368699832/bullet-wounds-and-kisses

The temperature in the training room seemed to be rising along with your anger. You had been training with Steve Rogers for several hours now, and, honestly, you were getting really sick of it.

“C’mon, old man, can we finish now? I’m getting really tired!” You complained for the umpteenth time, throwing your arms up and huffing.

“No. You need the extra training,” he answered, getting irritated with your behaviour.

“Why? I’ve got this down,” you whined, raising your fists to block his next punch.

“Don’t get so cocky, it’ll become a problem one day,” he growled, swinging a leg in an attempt to make you fall, but you jumped up just in time, landing in a crouch. “Besides, after that stunt you pulled last week, it’s a good punishment.”

“Oh, come on, I helped you!” You had been on a mission with Captain America, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton; it had been a simple storm and rescue, but you had engaged the criminal in a fight because he had been going after Rogers. You had sustained a cut on your stomach from a dagger, though it was small and the wound had healed quickly, so it hadn’t been too much trouble. Despite this, Rogers had gone off at you, saying that you could have hurt yourself even worse and that he had it under control. “If I hadn’t have attacked him then you would have been far worse off than I was!”

“You need to learn how to take orders! Stop acting so immature!” He punched you again and you tried to dodge it, but you weren’t fast enough and he hit your shoulder. You backed up a few steps and growled.

“Jesus Christ, Rogers! Can’t you just be grateful?” You stood up straight and pointed an accusing finger at him. “Sometimes orders need to be defied!”

“That doesn’t matter! You could have died, (Y/N)!” He shouted back at you walking up to you and getting into your personal space.

“But I didn’t! I didn’t die, so why does it matter?” You poked his chest. “Get off my back about it, already!”

“Just… Don’t do it again! I’ll have to suspend you from coming on missions!” He yelled. You narrowed your eyes at him, glaring at him. He glared right back, and soon you were engaged in a staring contest, each of you daring the other to look away first.

“Ugh! Whatever!” You shrieked, pushing him backwards. You stalked away, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

You had fought with Rogers since you became an Avenger a few months ago; so why did it suddenly hurt you so much this time?

* * *

You woke early. There was a mission today and you wanted to be ready.

The mission in question sounded simple enough during the briefing, but you knew you would have to be extra careful. It was an information extraction, but there was bound to be dozens of armed guards separating your team from your goal. Rogers and Natasha were going to be going with you.

It had been almost a week since your fight with Rogers, and you hadn’t spoken to him since. In fact, you were avoiding him. Even when you were sitting in the plane on the way to the mission, you didn’t risk making eye contact with him.

“Hey, what’s going on with you and Steve?” Natasha whispered, nudging your leg.

“Don’t, Nat. I really don’t want to talk about it,” you glared at her, pushing her back.

“Aww, but you guys were so cute together!” She pouted, making your eyes widen in surprise. You opened your mouth to respond, but you were so shocked that no sound came out. What the hell was that about? You faced forward, pointedly ignoring your fellow assassin when she laughed.

“C’mon, (Y/N), you gotta tell me,” she shoved your shoulder playfully.

“We had a fight, okay?” You gave in, rubbing a hand down your face. “I just hate him more than I usually do now.”

“Hate him? Since when have you hated him?” Natasha asked, confused. Seeing your raised eyebrows, she elaborated. “I thought you liked him?”

“What? No! Of course not! He’s a mega douche!” Your words didn’t sound half as angry as they were supposed to be because you were still whispering.

“You’re joking right? Cap is the nicest guy ever, and he’s super protective of you.”

“He… what? No way! He gets really angry at me all the time!” You responded, shocked at Nat’s words.

“Yeah, maybe that’s what it seems like to you.” She smirked knowingly. “You’re obviously trying to hide your feelings with anger and irritation.”

“No! It’s not that at all! I hate him! Despise him, even! He is always pushing my buttons, trying to make me angry. He says such nasty stuff, too! Like, I get that he is the leader, but he doesn’t have to flaunt it so often!” You looked away from Natasha, getting very involved in your little speech. “He can be so annoying, like when he says that I need to keep training even though we’ve been doing it for hours, or the way that he is _always_ working out, or how his jaw clenches when he is angry, or how his muscles flex when he’s lifting weights, and that little smile he does when he understands something, and his laugh…”

Natasha looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh my god, I do like him, don’t I?” You asked, horrified. Natasha chuckled and nodded.

“I’ll let you mull over that.” She patted your head and walked to the cockpit.

Since _when_ had you started liking Rogers? He had always been such a jerk! Oh God, maybe Nat was right, and you were hiding your feelings with anger. You were starting to freak out. You had never liked a guy before! Your work had always gotten in the way of a social life.

Speaking of work, you realised that you needed to push these thoughts away and focus on the mission. Yeah, the mission. Think about the mission.

The pilot poked her head out from behind the back of her chair and announced that you were near the drop site. You stood up at the same time that Steve did, and nearly bumped into him. You blushed, moving away, mumbling an apology.

Grabbing a parachute, you checked to make sure that you had all of your weapons on you. There was a dagger attached to your thigh, a set of three throwing knives attached to each arm, a small knife in your boot, and two pistols on your belt, along with a few gadgets. You strapped the parachute on, and braced yourself for the jump.

Steve had his shield, and, as usual, wasn’t wearing a parachute. Natasha was back and she was ready as well. She gave the signal to the pilot, who opened the door. 

Steve turned around to check that you were all good, and you and Nat gave him small nods. He jumped, and you followed, Natasha going after you.

You flew through the air for a few moments, before opening your parachute and ignoring the instinct to scream. You landed smoothly, and ripped the chute off of your back. You ran towards the location, which was an old warehouse with a low roof, surrounded by a few smaller buildings. _Why is it always warehouses_?

You caught up with Steve, and he motioned for you to attack the front of the warehouse, while he ran around the back and cleared an entry for Natasha, who was to gather the information.

There were five guards with rifles stationed at the front, and you knew that you could take them out easily.

You ran up to the one closest to you, taking your dagger and hitting him over the head with the hilt, hard enough to knock him out. Thankfully, he made no noise, and the other four still hadn’t noticed you.

You stabbed the next guy, who groaned, alerting the other three to your presence. He fell to the ground, and you kicked the next guard in the stomach, and then his head when he doubled over.

The other two ran up, realising that they stood more of a chance together than alone. You dropped your dagger and pulled out two throwing knives, instead. You threw one in each of the thighs of one of the guards and punched the other in the face. He stumbled backwards, holding his nose, which was broken and bleeding.

You grabbed the head of the guard with the knives in his thighs, and slammed it onto your knee. You sensed the last guard approaching you and roundhouse kicked him in the chest, then grabbed his head and knocked it against yours. He crumbled to the ground.

You sighed, picking up your dagger and sliding it back into its holster, then ran around all of the unconscious bodies to the back of the warehouse and inside, where Natasha and Steve were fighting a dozen guards, ten or so knocked out on the ground around them.

You raced in, slicing and fighting to the best of your ability. Your guns stayed at your waist; they were only for extreme cases, as you were an expert with knives and worked best with them.

The rest of the guards stood no chance against the three of you, with Natasha’s Black Widow’s Bite, Steve’s shield, your knives and your combined hand-to-hand combat skills. Soon you were surrounded by bodies, and Natasha raced to the computers to retrieve the information. You and Steve stayed outside the warehouse, though, to take care of any lone guards.

You both waited in silence. There was an awkward air between you, as there had been since your fight. You kept opening your mouth to say something, but nothing would come out, and you would just close it again.

So, instead, you thought about your feelings for the super soldier. You now knew that you liked him, but for how long, and to what extent? Maybe the crush had started a few weeks ago, when he had been retelling that story about his friend, Bucky Barnes; he had been laughing and smiling so brightly, and you were amazed at how happy he was. Or maybe it started two months ago, when you watched him rescue a child from falling debris. Hell, maybe it had started when you had first met him, as he shook your hand and warmly introduced himself as Steve Rogers, Captain America.

And was it even a crush? Or was it something more? You fought with him constantly; but maybe you _were_ just trying to hide your feelings. Did you truly _like_ Steve Rogers? Was it more than purely platonic?

Yes, it seemed that your feelings were more than that. And it felt good to recognise that. There was one thing that troubled you, though: did Steve like you back?

You looked up at him in curiosity, and your eyes widened when you saw a red dot – like that of a laser pointer – moving on his chest. You looked towards the building adjacent to the warehouse, and saw that there was a sniper on the roof. The dot stilled, and you knew that the sniper was going to make their shot.

“Steve!” You yelled, running towards him and tackling him to the ground.

You heard two shots. You landed on top of him, coughing and breathing heavily. You rolled off and jumped up, grabbing one of the guns from the unconscious men surrounding you. You took aim at the dark form on the roof and fired. You knew that you had hit him when the shape of their body slumped. You dropped the gun and looked to Steve.

“You okay?” You breathed, placing your hands on your hips.

“Yeah, I’m good. Um, nice call,” he responded, standing up slowly. He pulled off his mask, brushing a hand through his hips.

“Thanks, I’m just glad I caught it… caught it…” you trailed off, feeling light-headed, and you fell to the ground. Thankfully, Steve caught you just before you hit the floor and laid you down.

“(Y/N)? Oh God, (Y/N)! Stay with me!” He tapped your face making sure that you were awake, before pulling up the top half of your uniform. “God, you’ve been shot twice.”

He was right; there were two bullet holes decorating the side of your stomach, and blood was quickly spilling out and seeping through your undershirt. You hadn’t even realised because of the adrenaline. He jumped up and quickly ripped off a piece of material off of the shirt of the guard nearest to him, before dropping back on his knees next to you, and placing it on your wounds, applying pressure.

“Natasha! (Y/N)’s been shot! Natasha!” He yelled to Natasha, who came running out seconds later. He placed a hand on the side of your face and smiled down at you. “Hey, hey, stay with me now, you’re gonna be okay.”

“Steve, keep applying pressure. (Y/N), I’m going to elevate you to help slow the blood, okay?” Natasha stated, as calm as always. She lifted up your hips, and since there was nothing to keep you elevated, she told Steve to pull you onto his lap. He did so without hesitation, all the while keeping pressure on your wound. You were slowly losing consciousness due to the blood loss. “I’m gonna go tell the pilot to bring the plane over so we can get you to medical attention.”

Nat ran off, leaving you with Steve.

“It’s okay, (Y/N), you’re gonna be okay. The wounds aren’t that bad.” He wasn’t lying; there were exit wounds and the bullets hadn’t seemed to pierce any major organs as there were close to your sides. You were going to survive.

“I know, Steve. I trust you,” you gave him a small smile.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I should have been more aware,” he stroked the hair out of your face. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Are you glad I defied orders this time?” You grinned, and he laughed. “Seriously, Steve, its okay.”

“And I’m sorry about how I acted before, about you attacking that guy for me. You saved me that time, as well, and I never thanked you,” he apologised, before frowning in confusion. “And since when have you called me by my first name?”

“Steve, its fine. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“But now you’re hurt in my place!” He rested his hand on the side of your face again. “I should have been more aware…”

“Hey, calm down. It comes with the job,” you reassured him, hating to have to see him upset like this, especially because of you.

“No, you don’t get it!” He lifted his hand from your face to brush it through his hair. “I hate seeing you hurt because, um, I think– I think I kinda love you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Had you died and gone to heaven? Okay, that was a little dramatic, but still, you were shocked that Steve felt the same way as you.

Your body chose this moment to start drifting away, and your eyes began to flutter shut.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! No, no, no, don’t fall asleep! Natasha!”

His words were the last thing you were aware of before you succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

You woke up in a hospital bed, and the first thing that you thought about was the painful ache throughout your body. Your second thought was _Steve Rogers said that he loves me_.

The events of last night rushed into your mind, and you groaned at the thought of having to take care of yet another few wounds.

There was rustling at the side of your bed, and you turned your head to see Captain America himself waking up. He was sitting in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable armchair, and he seemed to have been sleeping in an equally uncomfortable position. He had gotten changed and cleaned up, though.

“Morning,” you breathed, smiling warmly. He rubbed his eyes, and finally seemed to become aware of his surroundings.

“You’re awake!” He sounded very happy. He pulled the chair forward so that he could sit closer to you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I’m good; at least I haven’t been shot,” he grinned playfully, before sobering up. “Listen, about what I said last night–“

“About you kinda maybe loving me?” You smiled again, and he nodded, looking worried. “What about it?”

“I– I shouldn’t have said it. You’ve been shot, and you shouldn’t be worrying about something as trivial as my feelings. Really, (Y/N), I’m sorry–“

“Steve, just shut up for a moment, will you?” You interrupted him again. “Please, please don’t be sorry. I’m certainly not sorry.”

“You’re… You’re not?” He asked, uncertain. “Wait, does that mean that…”

“Yes, Steve. I think I kinda love you too,” you grinned, and after a moment, he grinned with you. He leant down and hugged you, making you whimper in pain.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I totally forgot!” His arms flew back up as he apologised.

“It’s okay, really,” you groaned. “I could settle for a kiss, though.”

He smiled again, before leaning down and kissing you on the lips. It was slow and innocent, but it was perfect, and it was totally Steve.

“I can’t believe I just kissed a ninety-seven year old,” you deadpanned playfully, shoving his arm lightly.

“Well, you better believe it, because its gonna be happening quite often from now on,” he replied, crossing his arms.

“Oh really?”

“Really,” he nodded.

“Prove it, then, if you’re so sure,” you crossed your arms as well, a huge smile on your face.

“Gladly,” he laughed, before leaning down to kiss you again.

And despite the fact that you were in the hospital with bullet wounds, you were happier than you had ever been before.


End file.
